


Before His Golden Throne

by minttwilight



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Slow Burn, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-07 11:50:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11058345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minttwilight/pseuds/minttwilight
Summary: Sister Myla Trevelyan was at the Conclave. Forced into a role of leadership, she realizes how many obstacles she must overcome, both in matters of faith and responsibility.She does not know what the next day will bring, if there will be a next day. So she spends each waking moment hoping, wishing, wanting, and praying./on indefinite hiatus, currently; will most likely rewrite this when i have the time





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so.... yes, i deleted the last version of this.
> 
> i didnt like it at all, and had some stuff w the plot and bg i wanted to fix. so thats what i've done. updates will be more frequent after june 20th (school ends then). 
> 
> hopefully you guys will like it, this will have a lot more effort than the last one, and will not be deleted. at all.
> 
> enjoy!

_I cannot see the path._  
_Perhaps there is only abyss._  
 _Trembling, I step forward,_  
 _In darkness enveloped._

Canticle of Trials 1:13

* * *

 

 

Myla’s hand was shot with pain, having just closed another rift, but she shook it off as a man approached them--she took note of his armor, how different it was from the other soldiers’.

Cassandra noticed him as well, nodding at him in acknowledgment.

He looked at Myla for just a second before turning to Cassandra. “Lady Cassandra, you’ve managed to close the rift. Well done.”

Cassandra sighed, turning slightly as she gestured her hand to the prisoner. “This was not my doing, Commander, it was the prisoner’s.”

The commander seemed slightly disappointed as he looked her over before meeting her meek gaze. “Is it? I hope they’re right about you; we’ve lost a lot of people getting you here.”

Myla raised a brow at his suddenly unimpressed tone. “You’re not the only one hoping that.”

“We’ll see soon enough, won’t we?” He turned back to Cassandra, pointing behind him. “The way to the Temple should be clear. Leliana will try to meet you there.”

Cassandra nodded, turning to look at Myla, Varric and Solas. “Then we best move quickly.” She looked back to the commander, “Give us time, Commander.”

Soldiers started jogging to the Temple, and the commander looked back at Myla, taking a step back, his voice low and gruff as he spoke again, “Maker watch over you—for all our sakes.”

He ran off then, going to help an injured soldier get back to the small camp that sat near where that last rift had opened.

She sighed, jumping off the ledge of the wall and walking to the entrance of the Temple.

“Shit,” she heard Varric say quietly. He spoke slightly louder, “That’s red lyrium, Seeker.”

“I can see that, Varric,” Cassandra said, her voice raising slightly in fear even though her expression remained stoic.

“But what’s it _doing_ here?” His question went unanswered. He sighed. “Stay clear of it, guys, shit’s bad news.”

* * *

 

Myla hadn’t felt pain like this before.

But it was short lived, because she passed out seconds after the rift had closed.

She awoke in a misty forest, fog swirling gently around her as she sat up slowly.

“Hello?” Her voice echoed between the bare trees, falling softly to the orange and brown leaves that blanketed the ground. A figure approached her, one that was all too familiar, one that brought both comfort and anxiety. “Mother?”

The figure, her mother, quietly walked over to her, crouching down to help her stand. The two embraced, though Myla felt something was off. “My darling, I am so pleased you are alive. I knew having you go to the Conclave was a bad idea.”

“There was no way you would have known, mother.”

“Oh, but I did--there’s a reason we wanted you to stay in the Free Marches, in Ostwick. We were going to have you stay in Kirkwall, serve the Maker in the Chantry there but then, well, it…”

“Anders blew it up.”

“Yes, my love, he did,” her mother smiled softly, a tear falling down her cheek. “You were always the blunt one of the family.”

“So was Marc.” Myla stepped away from her mother, once again taking in her surroundings. “Mother, where are we?”

“Ah, a forested area about an hour north of the estate. Isn’t it nice?” The smile on Lady Trevelyan’s face was a sight that was both familiar and alien. Myla cringed slightly, fear seeping into her bones.

“Yes, it is, mother, but…”

“But what, my dear?”

“It’s… I wasn’t here, was I?”

“No, you weren’t.”

“You’re not actually my mother, either, are you?”

Her mother smiled, turning and taking a few steps away from Myla. “No, I’m not.”

“Then who—then what _are_ you?”

The spirit, the thing pretending to be Lady Trevelyan turned again, the unnatural smile once again planted on her face. “You were always the perceptive one. Does it really matter? They think you are near death.”

Myla froze. “Am I?”

“Do you wish to be?”

“Well… No, I don’t.”

“Then tell them.” The spirit walked back to Myla and took a hold of her hand. “Wake up, and tell them.”

* * *

 

She woke up then, looking around the small cabin. She noticed an Elven servant holding a small wooden box, and caught her eye.  

“Oh!” The young girl dropped the box in surprise, and Myla sat up. The elf took a few steps back, box forgotten, fear beginning to etch her features. “I swear, I didn’t know you were awake! I was only…”

Myla furrowed her brow. “Why are you frightened? What happened?”

“That was wrong, wasn’t? I said the wrong thing.”

“I don’t… think so…” She stifled a gasp, only more confused as the servant dropped to her knees, leaning forward so her stomach nearly touched her thighs.

“I beg your forgiveness, and your blessing—I am but a humble servant.” Myla slowly brought her legs over the edge of the bed as the elf spoke again, “You are back at Haven, my lady. They say you saved us! The Breach stopped growing… just like the mark on your hand!”

The Mark began to glow at its mention and Myla stared at it, unsure of what to say.

“It’s all anyone’s talked about the last three days,” the elf said, beginning to sit up.

Myla looked at the servant again, still confused. “Then… They’re pleased?”

“I believe so, my lady.”

* * *

 

“The Breach is stable, but it is still a threat. I will not ignore it.” Cassandra’s voice held an animosity that Myla did not understand. She believed she was innocent, but the Chancellor was doing as he was expected.

“I did everything I could to close the Breach. It almost killed me,” Myla said softly, wishing she as back in her vestments instead of the mercenary outfit she wore.

The Chancellor looked to her. “Yet you still live. A _convenient_ result, insofar as you’re concerned.”

Cassandra’s expression remained unchanged, though her tone dripped with anger. “Have a _care_ , Chancellor. The Breach is not the only threat we face.”

Leliana stepped to stand next to Cassandra then, eyes narrowed. “Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave.” She looked to Cassandra. “Someone the Most Holy did not expect.” She paused, turning back to the Chancellor once more. “Perhaps they died in the explosion, or have allies who yet live.”

He staggered back at that, shocked by the accusation. “Me? Now I’m a suspect in this?”

Leliana straightened her back. “You, and many others.”

“But not the prisoner?” He glared at Myla.

Cassandra raised a brow. “I heard the voices in the Temple. The Divine called to her for help.”

“So, what, the mark on her hand, the explosion, it’s all a coincidence?”

“Providence. The Maker sent her to us in our darkest hour.”

There was silence for a moment.

“‘ _Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide_ ,’” Myla recited softly, looking at her feet, unaware of the three sets of eyes slowly turning back to her.

* * *

 

“We are not ready. We have no leader, no numbers, and now no Chantry support,” Leliana said, glancing between the two other women.

“But I am a sister of the Chantry, as you are, and Seeker Pentaghast is of the Chantry.”

“I left the Order.” Cassandra paused for a moment, realizing what Myla had said. “My lady, did you just say you are a sister?”

“I--yes, I am, though I have recently broken my vows. I don’t think I could go back after this. I don’t think I can.”

“We understand, sister.” Leliana’s voice soothed Myla.

“Please, do not call me ‘sister’. There is yet a chance that I will ever be a sister as I once was.”

“Very well.”

“Come, my lady, you should eat and drink. You slept for three days after attempting to close the Breach, you must be famished,” Cassandra said, moving to open the door of the war room. Myla nodded, nodding at the Seeker.

“That sounds wonderful. Lead the way, Seeker Pentaghast.”

Cassandra scowled. “If we are to keep from calling you sister, please refrain from calling me Seeker.”

Myla nodded as she walked through the now open doorway. She stopped at the statue of Andraste, kneeling for a moment to say a prayer before heading to the tavern.

“Later today we will convene in the war room, before sundown. I would ask that you join us.”

“It would be my honor, Lady Cassandra.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! this chap is (once again) mainly in-game dialogue, as expected since i don't have much else i can write quite yet. next chapter will be some in-game dialogue, but most of it won't be. 
> 
> also, i'm going to try to put a verse from the chant of light at the beginning of each chap, we'll see how that goes--but i think it'll work.
> 
> enjoy!

_Maker, though I am but one, I have called in your name._

_And those who come to serve will know your glory._

_I remembered for them._

_They will see what can be gained,_

_And though we are few against the wind, we are yours._

Trials 5:1

 

* * *

 

“Maker, I thank You for the food put before me.” Myla’s voice was soft, muffled by the loud voices in the tavern around her. “May it nourish me, and may it hold me over until morning, when I break the fast.”

She lifted her spoon, taking a small bite of her soup, and looked up as she heard someone sit in the chair opposite her. Varric sat across from her, tankard of ale in hand, a smirk on his face. “Master Tethras, good evening.”

“You’re so formal, Marcher.” She cocked a brow at that, and he continued, “It’s a work in progress. Once we go out into battle and we get to know each other better you’ll get a much better nickname.”

“I’m just glad you didn’t make a nickname based on my devotion.” She took another bite of her soup, feeling tempted to devour the whole thing. It wasn’t that good, at least not to the others, but she was used to the rather bland food that was served in her cloister.

“Don’t say that quite yet, I might do just that.”

“Please, don’t. I have broken my vows. I cannot be seen as a sister of the Chantry, not in the way I once was.”

Varric’s lips twitched into a frown for a moment. “You know the prince of Starkhaven?”

“Sebastian Vael?”

“Yeah, him. He had broken his vows at one point, and escaped the Kirkwall Chantry. With help from the Grand Cleric. He travelled with Hawke for a while after they figured out what happened with his parents. He had a few episodes where he doubted his faith, but eventually he decided to become a Chantry brother, for good. ” He took a sip of his ale, and Myla looked out one of the windows, noticing the sun beginning to fall. She’d have to go back to the chantry soon to meet in the war room. “He ended up going back to the Chantry, and took vows of poverty and chastity. That is, until he ended up leaving for Starkhaven to take the throne. At least he was only an initiate.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“If he can break his vows and come back, and become a Chantry brother again, you can too. Though I would wait until after this whole Breach mess is over.” Varric smirked, watching her over the rim of his tankard as he took another sip.

Myla smiled slightly, glad that she _could_ do that. But part of her was worried that she wouldn’t be able to live the life of a sister, whether she was cloistered or a lay sister. She frowned, but quickly composed herself. She took a few more bites of her soup and stood, bowing slightly to Varric as she bid him goodbye. He watched her leave as he flagged down one of the serving maids.

* * *

 

She walked to her cabin, wondering what she should do once this was all over; assuming she survived all this, of course.

Would she send word to the Grand Cathedral in Val Royeaux, seeking permission to dissolve her vows? Would she be accepted back in the cloister she had lived in, like Sebastian had been accepted again in the Kirkwall Chantry? Would she be turned away, barred from being a religious sister?

She opened the door of her cabin, sighing as she lifted some firewood into the fireplace. She could light the fire now, in order for her cabin to be warm once she returned from the war council, but she didn’t know how long it would last.

She walked over to the table opposite her bed, pausing when she saw a cloak draped on the back of the chair. She picked it up, holding it up as she stared at it, wondering why it was there.

She noticed a piece of ripped parchment on the table, and put the cloak on her bed, picking up the parchment. She had a hard time reading the messy penmanship, but figured it out after a minute.

 

_Herald,_

_Commander Cullen thought you might need it. Said it’s cold here, and your cloak got burnt at the Conclave, according to Sister Leliana._

_He suggests you expect a thicker one come Firstfall._

 

No one had signed it, and that left her wondering if the commander had actually been behind the cloak. She made a mental note to approach him tomorrow about it, to thank him if this was, in fact, his doing.

* * *

 

She saw Cassandra standing by the door of the chantry, waiting for her.

“Good evening, Lady Trevelyan,” Cassandra said, opening the door of the chantry as Myla came closer.

“Good evening, Lady Pentaghast.”

They fell into step as they walked side by side through the chantry, silence falling between the for a moment before Cassandra spoke as they approached the door to the war room.

“Does it trouble you?”

Myla stopped walking, staring at her hand. Cassandra stopped as well, watching Myla’s face as she stared at the Anchor. Myla looked at Cassandra, a corner of her mouth dipping into a frown. “It stopped spreading, and it isn’t as painful.”

Cassandra shrugged, “We take our victories where we can. What’s important is that your mark is stable, as is the Breach. You’ve given us time, and Solas believes a second attempt might succeed--provided the mark has more power.” She paused for a moment before speaking again, “The same level of power used to open the Breach in the first place, that is not easy to come by.”

“Not to mention it’s incredibly dangerous.”

“That is something we can both agree on.” Cassandra opened the double doors, then, and gestured for Myla to walk in. The two stood side by side, opposite the three advisors.

Cassandra gestured to the commander, and Myla hoped her cheeks weren’t too visibly flushed; he seemed much younger and much prettier now than he did when they’d first met.

“May I present Commander Cullen, leader of the Inquisition's forces.”

He nodded to Myla in acknowledgement, a small grin forming on his lips. “It was only for a moment on the field. I am pleased you survived.”

Cassandra turned her head to Josephine, who stood to the left of the commander, “This is Lady Josephine Montilyet, our ambassador and chief diplomat.”

“I have heard much. It is a pleasure to meet you at last.”

Cassandra gestured, then, to Leliana. “And you have met Sister Leliana.”

Leliana nodded. “My position here involves a degree of…”

Cassandra looked at Myla as Leliana trailed off. “She is our spymaster.”

Leliana sighed quietly. “Yes. Tactfully put, Cassandra.”

Myla bowed to the three standing across from her. “It is an honor to be formally introduced, at last.”

“Yes, well, to business,” Cassandra said, catching Myla off guard. Why was she suddenly so rushed? “I mentioned that your mark needs more power to close the Breach for good.”

“Which means we must approach the rebel mages for help,” Leliana said, glaring at the commander as he scoffed.

“I still disagree. The templars could serve just as well.”

Cassandra sighed. “What we need is power, _Commander_. With enough magic poured into the mark, it could—”

“Destroy us all! The templars could suppress the Breach, weaken it so—”

Leliana cut him off, “Pure speculation.”

“ _I_ was a templar. I know what we--what they are capable of.”

Josephine put a hand up to quiet them. “Unfortunately, neither group will even speak to us yet. The Chantry has denounced the Inquisition.” She looked to Myla. “And you, specifically.”

Myla’s eyebrows raised, fear seeping in. “I was denounced? By the Chantry?”

Josephine nodded once. “Yes, my lady. By name.”

“No, that isn’t--why? I was a sister of the Chantry! Why would they denounce me?”

Cullen shook his head. “Shouldn’t they be worried over who will be the next Divine?”

Josephine quirked a brow at the commander before turning back to Myla. “Some are calling you the Herald of Andraste. That frightens the Chantry. The remaining clerics have declared it blasphemy. And we heretics, for harboring you.”

“Should I not be turned in then?”

Cassandra nearly jumped at Myla’s question. “You may yet be innocent, why would you wish to turn yourself in?”

Myla’s fear turned to determination. “I assume that _my_ actions have caused people to blaspheme. To say I am the Herald of Andraste--when only _we_ sing the Chant, is that not wrong? If my arrest and my punishment, whatever it may be, stops it, then perhaps that is the best option.”

“The people have heard about the woman seen in the rift when we first found you. They believe her to be Andraste.”

Leliana shrugged a shoulder. “Even if we tried to stop that view from spreading—”

“Which we haven’t.” Leliana glared at Cassandra at the interruption.

“The point is,” Leliana continued, turning back to Myla, “everyone is talking about you.”

“It is quite the title, isn’t it?” Cullen asked, quirking an eyebrow at Myla.

“It’s unnerving. As well as wrong. I am no Herald, let alone of one of Andraste.” Myla’s voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. She rubbed at her arm under the cloak, breathing deeply as the soft fabric brushed against her hand.

Leliana shook her head slightly. “People are desperate for a sign of hope. Right now, to some, you are that sign.”

Josephine sighed softly, “And to some, a symbol of everything that has gone wrong.”

* * *

 

Myla stood at the edge of the lake, feeling the weight of the sword in her hand. She was horrible with it, but she did not have the grace required to wield a bow or daggers.

She stepped onto the ice, taking a breath as she clutched the cloak around her. It was far too cold to be outside, and she knew that fully well, but she had to get away, outside the gates of Haven.

She could hear soft footfalls behind her, and despite her better judgement, kept taking slow steps toward the other side of the frozen lake. She looked up to the sky, taking shaky breaths as her chest grew tighter in the cold. This was a bad idea, and she knew it. But she kept going.

She stood in the center of the frozen lake, now. She loosened her grip on the sword, letting it clatter onto the ice, and untied the cloak, letting it fall off her shoulders. She fell to her knees, her legs growing numb in the cold.

There was silence, for how long, Myla was unsure.

“You broke your vows, Sister Myla.” Myla felt the cold seep deeper into her skin as she heard the familiar voice. After the long period of silence, the sudden statement should have scared her, but it didn’t--even though she hadn’t been expecting it.

What did scare her was the disappointment in the Revered Mother’s voice.

“I have only broken one, Revered Mother.” Myla did not turn around, she did not move.

“You have broken two, I am afraid. The Grand Cleric will be informed of this, and you will have to deal with the consequences.” Myla could hear the disappointment in the Mother's voice, the tone leaving guilt in the young woman.

“Yes, Revered Mother.”

“Good. Now, you must attend to your duties.”

“But I cannot.”

“Why not?”

“We are too far from the cloister, how will I be able to—”

“You can still fulfill your duties, Sister Myla. You can still worship the Maker as you did, you can still revere Andraste as she deserves, you can fast to show your devotion. You can still be chaste in action and thought. Do what you must, and do what you can.”

“Yes, Revered Mother.”

“Good. Now, off to bed.”

Myla finally turned her head to bid her goodnight, but she was gone.

She turned her head again, feeling faint as she felt more and more like she wasn’t there.

She could barely hear the heavy footfalls coming up to her as she still kneeled on the ice.

“Maker’s breath, Herald, you’re going to—”

She fell over onto her side, unaware of Cullen’s presence as she passed out. He nearly swore under his breath as he picked up the cloak and threw it over his shoulder before picking her up bridal-style.

His voice was a whisper when he spoke again as they reached the gates of Haven. “It would appear I spoke too soon, my lady.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is... much longer than normal. enjoy!

_ Now her hand is raised _

_ A sword to pierce the sun _

_ With iron shield she defends the faithful _

_ Let chaos be undone _

Canticle of Victoria 1:3

* * *

 

“So you’re saying she was hallucinating?” 

“Yes, Cassandra, I am. One of the soldiers posted at the gates said she’d just walked out onto the lake.”

“He didn’t go after her?”

“Did you not just hear me say he was posted at the gate?”

“Commander, with all due respect—”

The door to the makeshift war room opened to reveal a disheveled Myla. Josephine, Cullen and Cassandra seemed worried at her appearance, while Leliana seemed unsurprised.

“Good morning, Herald,” Leliana greeted. Myla just looked at her, the dark circles under her eyes more noticeable in the candlelight. “We were just—”

“Talking about me, yes.” Myla sighed, shaking her head and rubbing a hand down her face. “I’m sorry, about last night. I don’t… I believe the stress of all this is getting to my head. I will see to it that it does not affect me in that way any more.”

Leliana nodded. “Yes, well, we have business to attend to. Shall we begin?”

“I suppose so.”

“Alright. I have received word from Mother Giselle, Revered Mother of the chantry in Jader. She is attending to refugees in the Hinterlands. She wishes to meet with you at the Crossroads, not far from Redcliffe. You will be leaving within the week to meet with her.”

“Leliana has sent scouts ahead to set up camp, and to make sure we arrive safely,” Cassandra added.

“Yes. You will meet Scout Harding at the forward camp there.” 

“Within the week, you said, correct?” Myla asked, bracing her hands on the edge of the table as she leaned forward, staring at the map. She glanced up to see Leliana nod. 

“Yes, my lady. We will begin preparing for the trip tomorrow.”

“Perfect. The sooner we leave, the better.”

* * *

 

Myla stood at the dock just outside Haven, her sword in its scabbard, cloak tied around her neck. She held the pommel of her sword, willing the icy metal to warm under her skin, even though her hand was barely warmer. She stared at the spot in the lake where she had dropped to her knees, where she had eventually passed out. She chewed her cheek, thinking of the sound of the Revered Mother’s voice, so clear in her head.

_ “You have broken your vows, Sister Myla.” _

She knew that everyone outside Haven would believe her to be a heretic, or even maleficar, even if she wasn’t actually a mage. Many still believed that the explosion was her doing. 

She knew that requesting that her vows be formally dissolved was the wrong move to make. It would be seen as her distancing herself from the Chantry, because of what she had done at the Temple.

_ "You will have to deal with the consequences.” _

She sighed as she released the pommel of her sword, slipping her hand into the back pocket of her leggings. She stared longingly at the bridge leading to the Temple. The Temple she had always wanted to visit. She finally received the chance when requested to attend the Conclave.  _ Look how well that turned out. _

She turned around and headed back through the gates, walking towards her cabin. A shiver went down her spine, one unrelated to the nippy air, as she thought of what could have happened had she not attended the Conclave. The scenario was unlikely, as she would have jumped at the chance to attend, even if only to finally see the Temple of Sacred Ashes in person.

But is she had been ill, or if she was too busy with duties at her chantry, or if the revered mother refused to let her attend, then perhaps—

She shook her head. She was not the cause of the Divine’s death. She may not remember what happened, exactly, but she knew for a fact that she would not kill the Most Holy. Even if she were forced, she would rather take her own life than end the Divine’s. 

The Divine would have died either way, whether Myla attended the Conclave or not.

“ _ Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow _ ,” Myla recited softly as she placed her hand on the doorknob of her cabin. “ _ In their blood, the Maker’s will is written _ .”

She walked in and slowly closed the door behind her, bracing her back against the wood.

She willed the tears to stay in her eyes as her breathing became quicker and more shallow as she tried to quietly cry. She sunk down, eventually hitting the floor with a thud as she rested her forehead against her knees, wrapping her arms around her legs as she cried.

 

 

A loud knock on the door woke Myla up. She shook her head and rubbed her eyes as she stood up. She stumbled as she looked at the door, surprised she’d fallen asleep there.

She opened the door, surprised to see a soldier, clearly a new recruit, huffing in the cold air, bringing his arm to his chest to salute as Myla raised a brow.

“Your Worship, the commander wishes to speak with you.”

She glanced behind him, seeing the sun beginning to set. “Pray tell, what time is it?”

“It’s uh, around six in the evening, Your Worship.”

“Thank you, Ser…” She trailed off, cocking her head in a silent request.

“Oh, uh, Sean, Herald. My name is Sean.”

“Well, thank you, Ser Sean. Tell the commander I will meet him in the chantry. I will be there in a few moments.”

“Right away, Herald.” He saluted her once more before turning on his heel and practically sprinting off. She chuckled as he disappeared from view, and grabbed her cloak, tying the string around her neck. 

She walked to the chantry, wondering if he was going to ask her about the night before. She pulled the cloak tighter around her and walked more briskly as snow began to fall. She opened one of the doors to the chantry, and sighed in relief at the warmth inside as she closed it.

She looked around the chantry, surprised by the emptiness. She walked over to the statue of Andraste, and knelt down, taking a deep breath as she clasped her hands and bowed her head. The door to the chantry opened, but she focused on the prayer.

“ _ Though all before me is shadow _

_ Yet shall the Maker be my guide. _

_ I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond _

_ For there is no darkness in the Maker’s Light, _

_ And nothing that He has wrought shall be lost. _ ”

She heard heavy footfalls come up behind her, a Fereldan accent mingling with her Ostwick accent as she recited the next verse.

“ _ I am not alone. Even _

_ As I stumble on the path _

_ With my eyes closed, yet I see _

_ The Light is here. _ ”

She looked up, staring at the face of Andraste as she slowly stood. She didn’t move her gaze as she spoke. “You wished to speak with me, Commander?”

“Yes, I--I did.” Cullen gripped the pommel of his sword for a moment, taking a breath as he released it.

“About last night, I presume,” she said, turning to face Cullen. He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “I assume Leliana relayed to you what I told her? About what I saw?”

“She did, yes. I wanted to make sure—”

“I am fine, I assure you. These last few days have just been trying for me is all. At least, the ones I have been conscious for.” She smiled wryly, looking at her feet. “I will see to it that it does not happen again.”

“Herald, hallucinations are not something that should just be brushed off. Even if they are only a product of stress.”

“You are correct, Commander, they shouldn’t just be brushed off.” She straightened her back and breathed in, composing herself. “But here, I cannot show weakness. This is not my cloister. I have a direct connection to the Fade. Many would see me tried, and perhaps dead. I cannot afford weakness.”

A corner of Cullen’s mouth turned downward in a small frown, unsure of how to respond.

“Thank you for the concern, Commander. It is much appreciated.”

“I--of course, my lady.”

She bowed slightly and walked off, stepping out into the cold air of Haven.

* * *

 

A missive, written in elegant script:

_ Sister Leliana, _

_ When we arrived at the Hinterlands, there was fighting between both mages and templars at the Crossroads, although I suppose that should have been expected. We were able to secure the area with minimal casualties, and we met with Mother Giselle. She will return with us to Haven when we leave.  _

_ The refugees are safer, now. We have one more camp set up just off of Lake Luthias, and we have mapped out potential locations for four more camps. _

_ We have spoken with Corporal Vale as well. There appears to be a templar camp along the river, and a farmer named Master Dennet who may be willing to supply horses. _

_ Lady Pentaghast will send a full report of our activities leading up to now, and I will send one more the morning we leave for Haven.  _

_ Maker be with you, _

_ Myla Trevelyan _

* * *

 

Another missive, written in a less elegant hand:

_ Leliana,  _

_ Let me begin by saying that the Herald is wielding her sword and shield much better than before, and is more confident in battle--though slaying humans, even though they are criminals, is extremely hard for her. I am not joking when I say she has suggested they all should be given proper funerals.  _

_ We were able to quickly clear the Crossroads of both apostates and rogue templars, as the Herald said, with minimal casualties. Mother Giselle is currently tending to the wounded and the sick. She has suggested we travel to Val Royeaux to speak with Chantry officials, namely Revered Mother Hevara. I would not advise doing so until we are sure that the Herald will not be harassed while there.  _

_ The refugees were low on food, and one of the hunters mentioned they needed meat, specifically. The Herald decided to hunt some rams for meat and leather for the refugees. With no expectation of thanks--or anything in return--she brought ten rams to the refugees, slain by her hand. They gratefully accepted the rams, and asked her to bless the rams as they were skinned. It was a smart idea to spread word that the Herald is a Chantry initiate who has taken her vows.  _

_ A new camp has been established on Lake Luthias, just west of Calenhad’s Foothold. The Herald closed a Fade rift at the Foothold. Her arm, especially her hand, was in great pain after for around ten minutes. She described the pain as intense burning, as though fire were consuming her.  _

_ We plan to find the horsemaster, Dennet, tomorrow, and on the way we shall clear the templar camp.  _

_ If all goes well, we will leave for Haven with Mother Gisele on Thursday or Friday. As I write this, it is currently Sunday.  _

_ -Cassandra _

* * *

 

Myla walked through the gates of Haven and quickly ran to the chantry when she heard a commotion coming from the building. A crowd had formed just outside the doors, yelling incoherently. As she got closer, she noticed a few templars were on one side, some mages were on the other, and a small ring of people surrounded them. 

A mage and a templar stepped to meet each other in the middle of the ring.

The templar jabbed a finger at the mage. “Your kind killed the Most Holy!” 

“Lies--your kind let her  _ die _ !”

The doors to the Chantry opened, and out stepped Cullen.

The templar began to draw his sword. “Shut your mouth, mage!”

“Enough!” Cullen yelled, moving forward to put a hand on a shoulder of both men. He looked between the two of them, and Myla moved her way through the ring of people. The mage and templar stepped back. 

The templar faltered, sheathing his sword. “Knight-Commander, I—”

“That is not my title. We are  _ not _ templars any longer. We are  _ all _ a part of the Inquisition.” Cullen pointed his finger between the two as he spoke.

Roderick had moved into the ring, now, walking towards the commander. “And what does that mean, exactly?”

Cullen groaned inwardly. “Back again, Chancellor? Haven’t you done enough?”

“I’m simply curious, Commander,” the Chancellor responded, using Cullen’s title as though it were a foul word, “as to how your Inquisition and its ‘Herald’ will restore order as you’ve promised.”

“Of course you are.” Cullen looked around the crowd. “Back to your duties, all of you!”

The crowd dispersed, and Myla walked slowly to stand to the side between Cullen and the chancellor, relief painting across her face.

“Commander, Chancellor, excuse me,” she said meekly, nodding to the men as she greeted them. “Chancellor, I lay claim to no such title, to accept the title of the Herald of Andraste would not only be selfish, but blasphemous. It is the people of this village that have given me the title. To tell them that I am not the Herald of Andraste, after this time, would be to tell a dog to no longer follow orders. It simply will not happen.”

The chancellor scoffed. “You say you do not accept this--this heresy, yet you harbor the heretics themselves!”

“There are several members of the clergy here, Chancellor. Only you have accused the Inquisition of harboring heretics.” Myla clenched her fist. Cullen simply stood where he was, watching the two. “ _ I _ am a sister of the Chantry. I took my vows a year ago. I had not broken them until—”

Chancellor Roderick’s eyes squinted more than before, to the surprise of both Cullen and Myla, as Myla’s eyes widened in shock, hand flying up to cover her gaping mouth.

“Finish your sentence.” There was an edge to the chancellor’s voice that scared Myla.

“Chancellor Roderick, you must understand—”

“Finish. Your. Sentence!” He leaned towards her slightly. When she hesitated, he spoke again, quieter, though more intimidatingly, “Little girl, by order of the Chantry, I command you to finish your sentence!”

Cullen’s jaw dropped, shocked by the chancellor calling the Herald a “little girl”. He composed himself and was going to yell at the chancellor for using such demeaning language towards her when she spoke again.

“I apologize, Chancellor.” Her voice was barely audible, her fear of being reprimanded apparent as she shrunk into herself. “I have broken two of my vows, I am afraid. I had never broken any of them until I was taken to close the Breach after the explosion at the Conclave.”

“You broke your vow of obedience when you killed the Divine!”

“Chancellor, that is enough! She can appeal to Grand Cleric Elthina for a renewal of her vows if it is that important to you, but you will refrain from using demeaning language towards her, or towards anyone in Haven. That’s not to mention we still don’t know who killed the Divine, and it is still entirely possible you are behind the explosion.” Cullen was beginning to seethe with anger, and Myla slowly stepped backwards, away from the commander, knowing that setting off a man’s temper was never a wise idea. 

“She will not be able to appeal for a renewal of her vows until after the Grand Consensus. With the Divine’s sudden death, it could take months before a new Divine is elected!”

Myla sighed softly, gaze flickering between the two as they stared each other down, each silently willing the other to break the silence that had fallen. She looked at her feet as she spoke. “Forgive me, Chancellor, but I must speak with the commander.”

Cullen quirked a brow as he looked at Myla. The Chancellor looked between the two, more suspicious than before. “Yes, well, I shall leave the two of you, then. Maker watch over you both.”

Myla kept her eyes glued to the snow grazing the hem of her leggings. 

“Herald, are you alright?”

She looked up at Cullen, surprised by his soft tone. “I--yes, thank you, Commander. I want to—” 

She sighed, wishing she hadn’t left her cloak in her cabin as she felt the cold seep beneath her clothing. He gestured towards the chantry, walking to open one of the doors. “Let us speak in the war room.”

She nodded, bowing slightly to him as she walked inside, taking only a few steps before stopping to wait for him.

As he closed the door, she realized she was still looking at him, and quickly averted her gaze, beginning to walk towards the war room as the commander stepped up beside her. They were silent as they walked down the chantry, Cullen watching her from the side as he walked beside her. She stared straight ahead, trying to appear unaware of his gaze. He made sure to stay a step ahead, and opened the door to the war room as she approached it, walking in behind her and gently closing the door shut.

“My lady, are you quite sure you’re alright?” Cullen kept his eyes on her as he took his usual spot across the table. She leaned forward over it, bracing her hands against the edge, her fingers gripping the underside of the table. “I want to apologize for Chancellor Roderick—”

She held a hand up to stop him. She closed her eyes and relaxed her posture. “There is no need. He is the acting head of the Chantry, and is doing what must be done. While I believe I am innocent, everyone is currently a suspect, and that includes me.”

His brow furrowed. “But when we went to the Temple, we saw that the Divine called to you.” 

Myla frowned, taking a deep breath. “That is not what matters.”

“It does matter.”

“No, Commander, it does not matter. Not to the Grand Clerics, who are meeting for the Grand Consensus. It does not matter to those who wish to see me tried. They truly believe I am guilty. Whether or not I actually am is a different story.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “What should we do, then?”

“We must leave for Val Royeaux soon. I will be able to meet with Chantry officials there, and perhaps some of this can get sorted out. We will just have to see.”

Cullen nodded, meeting her gaze. “Alright. I will summon the War Council at first light tomorrow. A trip to Val Royeaux will require more preparation than one to the Hinterlands.”

Myla gave him a small smile. “On that, we can agree, Commander.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wanted to have this up earlier, oops
> 
> chapters might be going up 2/week, for the next two months, if all goes as planned, but we'll see.

“Good people of Val Royeaux, hear me! Together we mourn our Divine,” Revered Mother Hevara said, her eyes meeting Myla’s as the young woman walked up to the platform with her companions. “Her naïve and beautiful heart silenced by treachery!”

There was mumbling among the crowd, and Myla forced herself to stay composed as anxiety began to build. 

“You wonder what will become of her murderer. Well, wonder no more!” She gestured a hand to Myla, hundreds of eyes now turning to her, small gasps erupting from the crowd. “Behold, the so-called ‘Herald of Andraste’! Claiming to rise where our beloved fell! We say this is a false prophet, no servant of anything beyond her selfish greed!”

Myla felt pain in her chest at that, being called selfish, being accused of serving only her greed. “Revered Mother, we only came to talk peacefully, not to… to—”

Cassandra rolled her eyes. “This is what we get? Sister Myla—”

Hevara scoffed at the title, “She is no sister! No sister would claim such a blasphemous title!”

Myla raised her voice slightly to be heard over the crowd. “I have never claimed to be the Herald of Andraste, Revered Mother, please understand that!”

“That does not matter.”

“I implore you, let us sit down,  _ together _ , to deal with the real threat!” 

Cassandra nodded. “The Inquisition seeks only to end this madness before it gets worse, before it’s too late.”

Hevara pointed to a group of templars, including Lord Seeker Lucius--something both Myla and Cassandra noticed--stepping onto the platform. “The templars have returned to the Chantry! They will face the Inquisition, and the people will be safe once more!’

As the Lord Seeker walked past her, a scribe came up next to her, punching her just behind her ear. 

Myla fought to keep a straight face, something one of the templars--who had been there the whole time, standing next to a lay sister--failed to do. The Lord Seeker placed a hand on the templar’s chest. “Still yourself, Barris. She is beneath us.”

Myla’s face contorted with disgust. “You--how—”

Solas grabbed a hold of her arm gently, a gesture telling her to relax. She looked back to him and turned to Varric, who had a lopsided frown on his face. The Lord Seeker glared at Myla and walked off the platform, templars in tow.

“The Chantry has no control over us.  _ You _ have no control over us.” Lucius looked her up and down, disgust painting his features.

She ignored his comment, glancing around the group of scribes and knights. “Templars, one of your own commands the Inquisition’s forces. Join us, as he did!”

“He left the Order!”

Myla squinted her eyes, staring daggers into Lucius. Her voice was softer, yet more purposeful. “You  _ all _ left the Order when you broke away from the Chantry.”

“We did not—”

“There is no Templar Order, not in the proper sense--not anymore.” Her voice threatened to tremble, but she forced herself to keep it even. She took a deep breath. “Join us. Please.”

Lucius laughed, walking away with the group. Myla stood dumbfounded, staring at the platform, where Mother Hevara was beginning to regain consciousness. 

“Has the Lord Seeker gone mad?!” Cassandra seemed genuinely surprised, something that snapped Myla into focus.

“Let’s hope he didn’t.”

* * *

 

Myla stoked the fire in the fireplace, glad to be back in her cabin. She stripped her armor off, placing the mail on the makeshift armor rack at the end of her bed. 

Even as she was bare, the fire let off enough heat for her to be comfortable, as long as she stood directly in front of it. 

She’d barely gotten her smalls on when there was a knock on the door. “I--I’m not decent, hold a few moments please!”

There was no response, so Myla hurried to get leggings and a tunic on. She pulled out some woolen socks, calling for whoever was outside to come in. She sat on the chair at the desk, not wanting to stray from the fire.

The door slowly opened, and Cullen peeked in, stepping in fully when he saw she was dressed.

She pulled on the first sock, slipping her boot over it. “Glad to see I didn’t go unnoticed,” she said, a smile playing on her lips. Cullen nodded.

“How was Val Royeaux?”

“Right to business then, perfect,” she said softly, pulling on another sock. “It could have gone better, but it was not as bad as expected, in my opinion.”

“Good.” He looked at his feet as he shifted, looking at her as she stood up from the chair. “Josephine, Leliana, Cassandra and I would like for you to come to the chantry so we may discuss what happened and what we can do.”

Myla smiled softly, nodding. “Let me get my cloak and I will be right there.”

Cullen nodded, but didn’t move, staying in place in front of the door. He watched her drape the red wool on her shoulders, a small smirk pulling the corner of his lip as he watched her tie the string around her neck. “Does it keep you warm?”

She turned to him, seemingly surprised he hadn’t left. “I--yes, it does.” She looked to her feet as she pulled her gloves from her desk, slipping them on and gesturing for him to leave as she walked towards him. She stepped out, and he closed the door behind her, watching her stare at the ground as they walked to the chantry. “I wanted to ask you about it, actually.”

He raised an eyebrow, moving his eyes to watch ahead. She looked at him then, for a moment. “You did?”

“Yes,” she answered, “There was a note left with it. It said that you thought I might need it, and that I should expect a thicker one by Firstfall.”

A blush crept onto his cheeks, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh, I uh…”

“I wanted to thank you, if it really was your doing, as no one had signed the note.”

“I--it was, yes. Leliana had said yours was burnt at the Conclave--with your vestments, and I... thought that you may need one, since it’s rather cold here in Haven.”

Myla smiled softly as she looked at him again, willing him to meet her gaze. As they approached the chantry, he did, as he opened one of the doors. “Thank you, Commander Cullen. I appreciate it very much.”

“You’re welcome, my lady.” He gestured for her to enter. “After you, Herald.”

She bowed slightly, walking in and stopping just a few feet beyond the threshold. “Don’t worry about another one, please. This one is more than enough.”

The corner of his mouth quirked into a frown for a moment as he closed the door behind him. “It will get colder, I do not want for you to risk illness in the cold.”

She shrugged, “I’m technically not even supposed to call these clothes my own, nor my sword and shield, nor my cloak.” She paused for a moment, wringing her hands. “Although, I have already broken my vow of poverty, so I guess it doesn’t matter anyway, does it?”

He rubbed his neck again, his free hand reaching for the pommel of his sword as he looked at his feet. They were silent for a few moments, standing near the door of the chantry. 

She looked around, and not seeing the other three women, started moving to the statue of Andraste. She walked to the arcade behind the statue, and found a small crate of candles. She picked one up, moving to kneel before the statue, using the flame of another candle to light hers. She placed it in the mass of other candles, taking a deep breath as she closed her eyes and bowed her head.

“ _ Maker, though I am but one, I have called in your name. _

_ And those who come to serve will know your glory. _

_ I remembered for them. _

_ They will see what can be gained, _

_ And though we are few against the wind, we are yours _ .”

She could hear people walking towards her, and so she stood slowly, keeping her eyes downcast. 

“I hear Val Royeaux went better than expected,” Leliana said, dipping her head to make Myla look up. 

“That depends on what you’re talking about, to be honest,” Cassandra said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Lord Seeker Lucius punched Mother Hevara, knocked her out. Grand Enchanter Fiona approached us as we left.”

Myla nodded. “I received an invitation from Madame de Fer to attend a gala she will be hosting at the Ghislain estate in a few weeks.”

“Yes, and we met someone willing to join the Inquisition. Her name is Bonny Sims, a merchant.”

“Good, the more people the better,” Josephine remarked, writing something down on the writing tablet. She looked between others, a small smile forming. “What did Grand Enchanter Fiona say when she approached you, Herald?”

Myla furrowed a brow, trying to remember. “She told us that she, and the mages, would be willing to help us close the Breach. She asked that we meet her at the Gull and Lantern in Redcliffe Village when possible in order to negotiate.”

“And we received word from Therinfal Redoubt, the templars there would be willing to help us as well.” Cullen let out a sigh, “I believe they are the best option. With the mages we risk possession and abominations. We won’t be risking that with the templars.”

Leliana scoffed. “But with enough magic poured into the Breach—”

Myla sighed, covering her face with her hands for a moment. “We have had this discussion before, we do not need to have it again, not yet.”

The other four looked at her in surprise at her interruption. Leliana squinted her eyes. “My lady, this discussion is of utmost importance.”

Myla nodded, resting an arm against her ribs, the opposite elbow resting on her arm. “I know, but we should approach the mages in Redcliffe Village and negotiate before this is further discussed.”

Cassandra nodded. “I agree with the Herald, that seems the best idea now. If the templars refuse to negotiate then we may have to use the mages’ aid.” She gave Myla a small smile. “When we next leave for the Hinterlands, we will meet with the mages in Redcliffe Village. There is no harm in doing that, at least.”

“I will write a letter to Fiona. Just tell me when you expect to arrive in the village so I may give them a few days notice,” Josephine said, once again writing on the tablet. “We will plan for the next trip to the Hinterlands tomorrow morning. For now,” she said, looking to Cassandra and Myla, “you two must be famished. Go eat and rest.”

Myla nodded, bowing slightly as the others took their leave. 

“Herald, a moment, if you please,” Leliana said, noticing the way Myla’s face began to contort with worry. “It is nothing bad, I assure you.”

“Well, there’s a relief,” the younger woman replied, a wry smiling forming.

“Yes, well, I have heard rumors of a lone Grey Warden in the Hinterlands. If you can locate him, perhaps recruit him, he may be useful.”

“A lone Grey Warden? Shouldn’t he be in Weisshaupt?”

“You would think he’d be there, but rumor says he is recruiting. It’s quite odd for Grey Wardens to be out and about at this time, since there is no longer a Blight.”

“He’s recruiting? In the Hinterlands? During a war between the mages and templars? Most of the fighting is  _ in _ the Hinterlands.”

“Another reason I find it odd. I will see if Scout Harding can figure out where in the Hinterlands he is. But, if not, it seems you’ll have to find him yourself. Which, in all honesty,” Leliana sighed, “shouldn’t be too difficult. If anything, I’m sure the people in the Hinterlands could help you in some way.”

Myla nodded. “That’s true. Hopefully he will be willing to join the Inquisition.”

“Yes, let’s hope he is.” Leliana took a deep breath. “Well, I won’t keep you, go eat, you must be famished.”

Myla gave a small smile as she bowed to Leliana before leaving. She reached the doors of the Chantry before Leliana called out to her, beginning to walk towards her. 

“Yes, Sister Nightingale?”

“Oh, please don’t call me that. Just call me Leliana--and don’t bow to me, I am not your superior.”

Myla’s brow furrowed, her head cocking to the side a little. “But you are, I hold no position of authority over any part of the Inquisition.”

Leliana chuckled, “Arguably, neither does Cassandra, but you still see her as your superior.” 

“She doesn’t?”

“Well, not really. She may have announced the new Inquisition publicly, but Cullen handles the military forces, Josephine is our ambassador and resident diplomat, and I am the spymaster. There really isn’t much for Cassandra to do except fight by your side when we cannot. Which, I may say, is quite often, since we must stay in Haven to attend to our duties.”

Myla nodded. “Well, if you insist, Sister-- I apologize, it is habit. If you insist,  _ Leliana _ ,” she said, the name feeling odd on her tongue, “then I shall call you by name.”

Leliana allowed a smile to form. “I do.”

Myla smiled back. “Hopefully, Ambassador Montilyet and Commander Cullen  won’t force me to call them by name, I don’t think I could handle that yet.”

Leliana nodded. “Well, you should eat, Herald, it’s been a long day, I’m sure.”

Myla nodded, bowing before she turned and left the chantry.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was expecting this to actually move the plot ahead, but i broke my spacebar on my laptop and have to use a bluetooth keyboard. next chap will actually have content while in the hinterlands, i promise.
> 
> r&r, enjoy!

Myla laid in her bed, her cabin warmly lit by the slowly dying fire. She had woken up from a nightmare, and now she laid under the covers, skin pale and clammy as she tried to regain her breath. She forced herself to get out of bed, pulling on a tunic and leggings. She looked out one of the windows, and noticed that the sky was beginning to lighten, despite the sun still sitting below the horizon. She slipped on a pair of socks and her boots, not bothering to wear her cloak as she stepped into the cold. 

She sucked in a sharp gasp as the nippy air blew against her. She forced herself to walk to the small cabin nestled in the woods just outside Haven. From there, she could start a fire and warm up for a moment before going for a run in the woods.  _ Although _ , she realized _ , ‘the woods’ isn’t the best way to describe it. _

She brought her hands up to her biceps, rubbing at them as her teeth began to chatter. She walked faster, knowing it was a bad idea to leave her cloak in Haven, but part of her didn’t care. She thought of it as a sort of repentance, wanting to prove she was willing to suffer, even through something as simple as the cold, for the Maker. 

When the cabin came into her view, she stopped in her tracks, seeing a warm glow emitting from the cabin. Someone was in there, and at that moment she realized she should have brought her sword as well--not to attack, but threaten, if it came to that.

She cautiously stepped closer, trying to make as little sound as possible, which she found difficult as she stepped in crisp snow. She heard a deep voice singing softly from inside as she neared the door, and she hesitantly brought her hand up to knock on it.

She did, steeling herself for the potential danger that could have been in there. 

“Who is it?” The gruff voice sounded vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t pin who it sounded like.

“I--it’s Myla. Trevelyan. H-Herald of Andraste.”

“Herald? Oh, Maker,” the man said softly, only loud enough for her to barely hear him. He cleared his throat, padding up to the door. When he opened it, he quickly stepped to the side and ushered her in. 

“Cul--Commander, what are you doing here? Dawn hasn’t broken.” 

He chuckled softly, “I could ask you the same thing.”

“I was going to go for a run, but I thought I would come here first and start a fire.” She looked over to the fireplace, watching the flames lick the air. She looked back to him, voice softer as she noticed his rather bare chest. “But it would appear you’ve beaten me to it…”

He quirked a brow before looking down. He rolled his eyes at himself as he walked to where his shirt was folded on the table. “Maker’s breath, forgive me.”

She cast her eyes down as he put it on, tucking the front of it into his trousers. “What are you doing out here, though? Don’t you have a cabin?”

He shook his head. “No, I don’t. I do have a rather large tent, though.” He laughed quietly. “A couple of soldiers were, uh, having some fun. They were being a bit loud, but I didn’t want to stop them. That would’ve been embarrassing for them  _ and _ me.”

She looked back up at him, surprised. “Doesn’t it get cold sleeping outside?”

“It does, but I have a rather thick blanket. Besides, I’m from Ferelden, we are very much used to the cold weather.”

“Oh.” She shifted her feet. She thought back to the reason he was here. “Wait, those soldiers--you said they were having fun?”

He met her eyes, cocking his head to the side. “I--yes, I did. All things considered, I can’t say I’m surprised.”

“Why weren’t they sleeping? Don’t they train everyday?”

He jerked his head back a little at her questions, confused. “Well, yes, they do. But the two of them must have been exhausted after, what with all the noise they were making.”

She squinted her eyes a little as she looked at him, trying to understand what he was saying.

“ _ Oh _ ,” she muttered, realization hitting her.

“I’m sorry?”

A blush crept up her cheeks. “I hadn’t realized what you… Oh, sweet Maker, I hadn’t realized you meant they were having…” She trailed off, the one word feeling too dirty to be spoken.

Cullen sat down on the edge of the bed, raising an eyebrow. “Sex?”

She spoke quietly, “Yes, that.” She gave a soft sigh. “I apologize, I was never well exposed to those… matters.”

“That’s not surprising, considering you’re a Chantry sister.”

“I’m not—”

“You still are, even if you have broken some vows. They can’t dissolve your vows with the Grand Consensus going on.”

“Chancellor Roderick can.”

Cullen sighed, running a hand down his face before leaning his elbows on his thighs. “I doubt he would dissolve your vows unless you practically begged him. Too many people look up to you, and with several clerics in Haven… If he dissolved your vows without you requesting it, the outrage it would spark would far outweigh his own pettiness being satisfied.”

Myla watched as his face became contorted with disdain. “Why do you hate him so?”

“He’s... “ He sighed, shaking his head a little bit as it drooped. “He’s a bureaucrat. I mean, he wanted you tried for a crime you didn’t commit!”

“We didn’t know I was innocent!”

“We  _ did _ know you were innocent. And despite your innocence, despite the fact that the Divine had called to you for help… He still wished to see you tried.” She tore her gaze from him then, instead looking at the floor as she crossed her arms across her chest.

“He was acting as the head of the Chantry. In times like this—”

“In times like this, the Chantry cannot simply vilify anyone—”

“I am not just anyone anymore! I have a mark on my hand that gives me a direct connection to the Fade--I can close rifts, I was physically  _ in _ the Fade, and I came out and survived! People are saying I was handed out of there by Andraste herself!” She felt tears welling as her mouth hung open, and she forced herself to look at Cullen again. “I am not just… someone in the shadows, preaching and praying and fasting and studying behind closed doors. I am the only person with the potential ability to seal the Breach. I am the only one who can close the rifts. I have already seen my fair share of bloodshed and I don’t…”

She turned her gaze to the slowly dying fire as she trailed off. She took a deep breath and steeled herself, willing the tears to not fall. “I don’t think I could ever go back to that life. If I even survive this.”

Cullen slowly stood, a grimace forming as he watched a tear fall down her cheek. He spoke quietly after a few moments of silence, “You will survive this.”

She didn’t flinch as he took a step closer. She didn’t budge; she just stared at the flames. “There’s yet a chance I won’t.” Her voice was barely audible, but he could hear the slight waver in her tone.

“I will not let you die--none of us will.” He moved his head a little in an effort to make her look at him. He succeeded, taking a step back as she looked at him. His brow furrowed, his head cocked slightly. His voice was gravelly “We will not fail you, Herald.” 

A tear slid down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it away, “‘Tis not you who could fail me, Commander. Only I could.”

She sighed, walking towards the door. “I’m sorry, Commander. I should--I should go.”

She hurried out, and Cullen reached a hand out as she opened the door, about to ask her to stay, but she was outside before he could speak. He lowered his hand as the door closed gently, the young woman too careful to slam it closed, even in her emotional state.

* * *

 

“So if we set up camp here, that would allow us to get to the fortress where the refugee’s son is residing. Leliana’s scouts have reported a few Fade rifts in that area too, so that seems a good spot for a camp.” Myla traced her finger along the smaller map of the Hinterlands, other hand holding a teacup of elfroot tea. Cassandra braced her hands against the edge of the table.

“Redcliffe should be our main priority.”

Myla took a sip of her tea and nodded. “It is. I figure if we arrive in the afternoon, Redcliffe isn’t that far of a walk, so we could get there, meet with the Grand Enchanter, and voila, we eat at the tavern and leave. We’re back at the Crossroads by early evening at the latest, assuming we arrive on time.”

“And if we don’t?”

“Then we spend an extra day in the Hinterlands. If we do that, we may be able to take care of those wolves and get that druffalo. Plus, that extra day will give us time to locate and meet that Grey Warden.”

Cassandra nodded. “Perhaps we could scout out locations for watchtowers as well.”

Myla beamed. “Yes! That’s perfect. If we can get locations scouted, I can send a missive to the commander with the locations marked on a map.”

“And he can send soldiers to build them.”

Myla set her teacup down, sighing as she leaned her side against the war table. “We could have mounts secured within the week, if all goes as planned.”

“Which would allow for easier passage to the Fallow Mire, making it easier to rescue those soldiers.”

“And we would be set for a trip back to Val Royeaux to attend Madame de Fer’s soiree and for us to find that secluded courtyard.”

Cassandra shifted her feet as she pursed her lips. “I fear the courtyard may be a trap.”

Myla raised her hand to rest on her cheek, sitting her elbow on her other arm as it crossed her chest. She nodded. “That’s possible, but I feel it may be worth a visit. We may get another ally out of it.”

Cassandra nodded. “That is true. When do you want to leave for the Hinterlands?”

Myla turned her head to look at the map, crossing her arms. She sighed, turning around completely to better see it. “Do you think two days will be sufficient?”

“To get everything ready?”

“Yes.”

Cassandra nodded. “Two days should be fine.”

“Perfect.” Myla took a sip of her tea. “We can let everyone know tomorrow morning. We can plan to head out two days after tomorrow.”

“So in three days?” Cassandra brought her hands off the table, reaching for the door as Myla stared at the map, fingers grazing the porcelain of the teacup. She grasped the handle of the door and turned, seeing Myla as she stared off. “Are you alright, my lady?”

Myla just kept staring at the map as her hands stopped tracing the teacup. “Do you ever wonder what would have happened had I not been at the Conclave?”

Cassandra let go of the door, standing in place as she thought. “I... cannot say I haven’t, my lady.”

Myla still didn’t turn. “Do you think she would have lived?”

Cassandra nearly stumbled backwards at the question, the soft voice barely hiding the tremble of fear. “She would have died either way, I believe. I do think, however, that, had you not been at the Conclave, there would be no chance at saving Thedas.”

Myla chuckled darkly. “I am so glad to hear you have such faith in me, Lady Cassandra.” 


End file.
